Soulcatcher

by Sergey Zaytsev

  ''Don't even think about it. Don't twitch. I know you're angry, but hear me out first. Don't be so quick to judge. First, the desire to survive at any cost is not forbidden here, otherwise such quests would not be given. Right? Going further. Let's keep an open mind. You're nobody to me. All of you are. You are just random persons who appeared with me in the initial location. If I leave the 'Hunters', I'll probably never see any of you again. Never. The 'sandbox' is just an episode. If, of course, what they say about the worlds of 'ICS' is true. That there are countless worlds, that is. Countless worlds, countless races, and people inhabiting them. It's breathtaking, isn't it? You know, from the first hour I got here, I was really curious about who I was in my previous life. You've probably thought about that, too, haven't you? But now I don't really care. Here, at 'Universe ICS', there are incredible opportunities and I'm not going to resist the temptation of the power I was promised.''

  ''Promised? By whom?''

  ''My patron. The plan, which has led me to success, was mine, but without the 'Lash of Pain'...''

  Right. The cleric had calculated the most optimal way for himself. He wouldn't even be punished for Grant's murder; it was, after all, "The Destroyer" who had killed the mage. Pops only paralyzed him with the "Lash of Pain" while we were running away from the explosion of the "Bloody Vengeance" and while there was no time to look around or, even less, to track who was doing what. Grant was doomed to be sacrificed the moment he entered the dungeon.

  ''Did I get my message across, Wise?'' the cleric smiled, glancing at me with superiority. ''That the desire to survive by any means available and permitted by the system is not something reprehensible? Here's another clue for you. There is no 'us' out 'there', outside the game. I don't know how or why we were brought here, but I think we only exist here.''

  ''Such conclusions coming from where?''

  ''Use your brain. They tell us that the useless memories are filtered out to adapt to new conditions, right? But, most likely, it was done just so that we didn't remember the real past. Because we are no longer in that past. Therefore, any actions are justified if they lead to survival. Right?''

  I've heard that somewhere. The "that's just how life works". In the past, maybe? But a man is defined by his actions. And if the cleric really didn't care, then there would be no conversation. Gramps was right about one thing, though. We all thought about it, about what happens after we lose all of our saves. It was really scary, and I wouldn't test it on my skin out of pure interest. After all, dead men tell no tales.

  ''Why so silent? Do you not agree?''

  ''Maybe you're right,'' I said, indifferently. ''So what do you want from me?''

  ''Support, Wise. Grant was a weakling, destined to die. He stupidly missed his chance to rise. But it is necessary to spread this idea among all of the clan members.''

  ''Wait ... What did you say about Grant?''

  ''Don't you understand yet? Why do you think Alice was trying so hard to get him? Grant himself was an assassin, and Alice was his target. But, our healer couldn't raise his hand against her. He had no guts to do it.''

  ''But she…''

  ''Exactly. While I was in the 'Children', I heard a lot of things. At first, Alice tried to kill him using someone else. And when she realized that she couldn't, she got scared, and tried to appease him. As if that could keep her safe. Retards, as they say, have similar thoughts…''

  ''Do you know my assassin, too, Gramps?''

  ''Damn it, Wise, don't be an idiot, don't disappoint me.''

  ''Red?''

  ''Who else would it be?'' contemptuously snorted Gramps. ''As soft as Grant was. I don't know what she saw in you, but... From this whole lousy company, at least you seem tougher than the others.''

  I wondered how he knew so much about assassins. Was it because of the quest? Or was his patron, "Alan the Dark", giving him hints? Having such a patron really was useful.

  ''The anger will pass, Wise,'' Gramps continued talking. ''Don't tell me you're not mad. Your eyes betray you. Those are just emotions, and they are fleeting. We are the backbone of the clan, because we survived and they didn't. And now, we decide what to do with them. Fortune smiles to the lucky, and to the prudent, like us. You're pretty smart, like me, and you went through the dungeon and got out on your own, albeit in an unusual way. You know how to cling to life. Do you want me to give you the clanmaster position to earn your trust? Take it, I won't mind. I will press Cavalier, too. He's been the counselor for so long, that'll be enough for him. I'll tell you something. You can either constantly think about what you've lost, or you can fight for what you still have. What'll your choice be, Wise?''

  Wonderfully said, and as reasonable as his speech from back when he stood up for me near the den, telling Alice that "things were not done like that". What sincere hypocrisy. What an honest lie. What a wonderfully flexible disguise. Grant said that the clerics become spiritual guides for the "Universe ICS's" gods. Cavalier told us that players don't choose patrons, but that patrons choose the players that suit them. "Alan the Dark"? It was no wonder that Pops had found exactly that patron. No wonder I thought that his appearance sometimes seemed predatory and wolf-like. But, such a person was difficult to expose, if they didn't wish it so.

  Gramps confessed only because he had nothing to lose. He was just waiting for the duplication process to be complete in order to receive a charged "Soulcatcher". He was stalling, just as I was, and fooling me with smooth talk. Hmm... It seemed to me that the cleric actually had his eyes on the girl, although he kept assuring me that she didn't interest him, that all of this was only part of his disguise. All of his stars had aligned so that he could conveniently get rid of his target. He would kill me as soon as he realized that I didn't share his beliefs. With his nine saves, the loss of one would be a minor setback. I would not manage to get out of here. Combat logs would disappear after an hour. Red wouldn't get to know the whole truth. Gramps would come up with a suitable story about what had happened in the dungeon; or blame the system bugs. The only inconvenience and witness was me. That's why he didn't send me flying while I was unconscious. The cleric needed to kill me personally, using the "Soulcatcher", so that the truth about his actions would never come to light.

  Trust, you say…

  Pops was not the only one who could play this game. And if the system couldn't provide the punishment, then the players should take it upon themselves to do so.

  Fury was very close. She had some difficulties with path finding, as the terrain was rocky, but she somehow overcame all of the obstacles. The cat, though small, was agile. Her resumed, purposeful running let me feel that she had found the passage, and in the next second I saw her. The "Direcat's" gray silhouette crept along the edge of the rock ledge a few feet above Gramps' head, successfully blending with the background rocks.

  Not yet!

  Fury froze obediently, angrily squinting at the cleric from above, gray fur raised on the nape, and mouth slightly ajar, exposing small white fangs. She was barely holding back a hiss. If she attacked Gramps immediately, he would simply smear her with his hammer. The cub was, after all, just a cub. But if I chose the right moment, and prepared for it, then someone would regret not having gotten a pet in time, like all of the other "simpletons".

  Gramps got bored of waiting for my answer. He carefully knocked the ash from the stolen pipe, and hid it in the stolen pouch. Then he got up and turned to face me.

  ''It's time to decide, are you with me or against me. Well?''

  ''You are right,'' I shrugged with some effort. ''I'm fucking mad at you,'' I was lying, and hopefully it looked convincing. I was too tired even for anger. That would come later, I was sure. ''But you're right about one thing, saying that emotions are fleeting. So I'm with you. I can't promise that I'll fall in love with you, but we can maintain neutrality. Come on, help me, I can't get up by myself.''

  ''Really?'' the cleric squinted in suspicion, taking a step towards me, and then he stopped.

 
''Can you help me get to the green zone? It's too lifeless here… I'll be recovering forever thanks to these rocks.''

  ''The right choice, Wise.''

  Gramps noticeably cheered up, took another step, grabbed my outstretched hand and pulled me onto my feet. He was insanely strong, the huge bastard. Staggered, I casually took a step towards the "Soulcatcher", which was still lying on the rocks.

  A powerful punch in the stomach made me bend over. The sole of a boot collided with my chest, throwing me onto my back. I was wheezing and my heart was racing, but I still tried to jump up, to retaliate…

  The following strike knocked my lights out.

  When my vision returned, I wished it that it didn't. Kneeling at the very edge, I watched as the water noisily raged at the bottom, whipping the white foam and falling into the abyss. I also saw that the "Soulcatcher's" tip rested against my breastplate, and that the cleric's right hand was holding the dagger. I felt his strong left hand holding me by the neck, and him standing behind me. He laughed smugly.

  ''Look over there, Wise. Because that's the last thing you'll see. I played you pretty good, huh? Did you really think that I'd let you go? That we would embrace each other as brothers and go together towards a brighter future?''

  Fury…

  I felt the wild rage, which clouded the cat's mind. The time had come!

  Barely audibly, soft paws touched the stone surface.

  The cleric shuddered, wheezed, and froze. My vision blurred, but I had to stand up. This was my last chance, and the paralysis won't last forever. Gramps' left hand didn't let go of the breastplate. Fine, I'll work around it…

  I turned on the very edge of the abyss, facing the cleric, and put my hand on the hand clutching the dagger. I turned it towards his chest and pushed. Of course, he resisted. His face was distorted, temples swollen with veins. In his eyes I saw amazement, incomprehension, and hatred. How does it feel to be in Grant's place? To know that you are going to die, but are powerless to do anything to save yourself?

  Each of us has a choice.

  The paralysis had ended. The cleric's hands instantly regained their strength and started to push me away. I had time only to push forward with my entire body. The tip of the dagger pierced through the armor with no resistance and entered Gramps' chest. When the ghostly blade sank all the way in to the hilt the man's eyes became blank and expressionless, like glass, and he fell onto me, clutched me in a death grip, and the weight of his body pulled me with him.

  We fell together.

  As he'd said, in a tight friendly embrace. The sound of the waterfall and the whistling wind muffled all other sounds. I felt like the cleric's body had begun to disintegrate, leaving behind a trail of ashes, like a comet. Such was the power of the "Soulcatcher's" blow, destroying both body and soul.

  The oncoming airstream turned my face down. The system informed me of something, but I was not up to it. Looking down in astonishment, I was unable to look away from the sight of rapidly approaching jagged rocks…

  Epilogue

  "Avatar backup restoration complete."

  The hiss of the injector; a sharp sting in the shoulder.

  "I'll be waiting in the workshop. Don't linger, time is ticking."

  I lay down for a minute, eyes closed, listening to the sensations of the body, and waiting until the dizziness passed. Yeah, that was a much nicer way to wake up. Why the injection, though? What had I done to deserve this?

  It was time.

  Clinging to the edge of the sarcophagus, I leapt over the side and hit the cool floor with my bare feet. I felt so great that it almost didn't feel right. I had just fallen into the abyss, numb with horror and expecting to be smeared against the rocks, and yet, here I was. The second revival. So, the recovery lasted for eighteen hours. I got carried out of the dungeon early in the morning, so it had to be the middle of the night.

  I was quite glad that I did not remember the moment of collision, or the pain that followed. Falling from such a height meant instant death But, I remembered everything else. Including things that I would have preferred to forget. For example, Grant's death.

  The memories overwhelmed me, painfully squeezing my heart. I knew I would miss him. However, right now, it was more important to address my own problems; there would be time for sorrow later.

  I took a "free loser's set" from the luggage compartment and quickly, but without a fuss, put it on. I stepped through the door of the storage room, which had already been opened …

  But this was something new.

  Naturally, "Flame" was here; steel shining brightly, polished like a mirror. I did not expect to see the remaining inventory, as it hadn't been bound. Everything I had earned in the dungeon sunk into the oblivion. I gritted my teeth in annoyance. But, to my amazement, a stack of clothing, more substantial than the underwear from the luggage compartment, was waiting for me in the room next to the sword. Voicing a puzzled "Hmph", I pulled out a heavy jacket with rows of dull, metal strips riveted on the chest, a pair of pants, a belt, and boots with metal plates on the toes and the uppers; all made out of thick tanned leather. Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, I put on the new clothes without hesitation. Besides the clothes, I also found a capacious bag, with pockets on the sides.

  Throwing the bag over my shoulder, I set the "Uniq" on my back and froze. My pets! I couldn't feel them. I felt another pang of guilt as I remembered Tinnie. I had to personally give the order to restore her in the "Stables". But what about Fury? Was my kitty somewhere far? Did she stay in the mountains? Or did the walls of the "Replicator" block our mental connection? I needed to sort the pet issue as soon as I got out of here. If the "Direcat" got lost, I had to find her. If she died, I had to revive her. Without them, it felt like a very important part of me was missing.

  I took a step out of the room, but then changed my mind. First, I needed to deal with myself. Hell, I somehow reached level ten! Yes, the message logs had already been erased, but there should have been some entries in the quest log, which would give me some clue as to what had happened.

  "Clearing the Ranks"

  Quest type: hidden, unique

  Conditions: eliminate a player who completed the "Assassin" quest.

  Reward: 30,000 XP

  "Valuable hardwood"

  Quest type: personal

  Conditions: Gather ten pieces of mort (wood of fossilized oak) for the ''Replicator's'' "Caretaker".

  To receive the award, talk to the "Caretaker".

  "Clearing the Ranks"… That gave me some ideas. For example, the "Assassin" quest was some kind of a psychological test designed to identify particularly aggressive or unscrupulous players. I better think about it in my leisure time... But what a reward! Three times bigger than the one for the dungeon! How rarely did the necessary conditions coincide?! No wonder it was listed as "unique." I really hoped that Gramps's murder would be considered an accident, and that the punishment from Esco wouldn't follow. But "Valuable Hardwood" surprised me. Weren't all of those pieces of wood left in the mountains?

  And then, all of the puzzle pieces came together. My clan! My clanmates did this for me! Anyone could pay for the injection! Cavalier or Red probably collected the wood, as the "Direcat" could have shown them the place of my death. The clothes were bought from Turcan. They all pitched in. The "soc" expenses before the dungeon were serious, but they guys probably spent eighteen hours grinding for more. Their worry was touching.

  Having caught my breath, I went to the exit, not willing to test Ears' patience. I wanted to see my clan members as soon as possible, to tell them about Gramps, to find out how were they, and to discuss further plans. There were so many possibilities now that the dungeon was over! So many pressing concerns - a new location, the clan. Curses. It was so bad that Grant couldn't be a part of that.

  Nothing changed in the workshop.

  Brightly lit tables with all sorts of things, a lot of complicated equipment along the walls, and Ears sitting at his workplace, engraving an
other detail into a future pipe. I walked in and unceremoniously sat down into the familiar visitor's chair. He briefly glanced in my direction and laid down the brilliant cutter. Then he took a smoking pipe from the shelf full of finished products, and put it on the table. Then, he took a heavy, clearly gurgling, jar out of a glass cabinet, and put it next to the pipe. His first sentence confirmed my guess.

  "Your clanmates paid for the potion," said the "Caretaker" with significance, glancing at me inquisitively. "The pipe is a quest reward."

  I wanted a pipe since the moment I had seen Grant's near the lake. But for some reason I was hoping I had scored for something more worthwhile…

  "I'd suggest you look at the stats," advised Ears, as if reading my mind.

  I took it in my hands, looked closely, and my eyebrows went up in surprise.

  "Silent Girlfriend"

  Artifact, magic pipe.

  Item type: unique

  Built-in ability: "Divine Patronage" (inactive)

  The item is soulbound to the player "Wisecracker".

  "Wow," I blurted out, a little confused. "Thank you…"

  "Here, take some tobacco," Ears threw a cloth pouch onto the table beside the jar and smiled graciously. "A bonus from me, personally. You're the only one who's done this quest in the last month."

  "The only one? Why? No one wants a good buff?"

  "See, the reward is randomized," Ears said sarcastically, leaning back in his chair. "And they are all in a hurry, and only want specific things. I don't give such a quest every day, only when I'm out of materials."

  "If you explained better, there would have been more candidates."

  "Yea, no," answered the "Caretaker". "First come, first serve!"

  "What's the ability about? Why is it inactive?"

  "When you smoke, you'll know. Literally. Not here, though. I don't like smoke. The power is self-determined depending on your patron deity."

  "Means I won't get to know it anytime soon," I sighed, a little disappointed.

  "Sooner than you think," Ears smiled vaguely.